


Three Words

by infinite_regress



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, I Love You, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, Love, Romance, Star Trek References, Sweetness, True Love, Valentine - Freeform, captain picard (mentioned), guest appearance by Guinan, relationships, star trek the next generation - Freeform, still a T though (just)], whoopi goldberg - Freeform, whouffaldi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 08:24:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9713258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infinite_regress/pseuds/infinite_regress
Summary: The Doctor takes Clara back to the Orient Express on Valentine's Day. He wants to tell her how he feels about her, but its not easy...She was everything; the most perfect state of being. She completed him, she was the thread that wove the story of his life into a coherent whole. The final puzzle, the only mystery worth solving. The shining moment that turned the world upside down. Nothing would ever be the same again.





	1. Words

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Azalays for proof reading.

This was a truly terrible idea. The worst he’d had in ages. The Doctor paced across the console room. He paused, swivelled a monitor on the console around and then reversed the feed so it showed his own image. Then he ran his fingers through his curly, grey hair, and straightened his tie. He spun the monitor back and resumed his pacing. What was he thinking? The last time he’d dressed up like this and taken Clara to the Orient Express it had almost been a disaster. Okay, so his motives that time were a bit shady; he’d hoped an adventure would draw them closer together. It worked, but he couldn’t exactly say he was proud of himself for it.   

Why would this time be any better? He should call her up, and cancel. 

He picked up the phone. Then he put it down again. 

Come on, Doctor, you owe it a shot, at least. One decent effort at explaining how you feel about her without any distractions. But how could he hope to tell her what he felt, when he barely understood it himself? Three words stalked his waking moments, tormenting him with their presence because he just couldn’t say them. They were, he decided, the most difficult three words in the entire universe.  

Distractions were his enemy and his friend.  _ Distractions  _ made it easy to keep running and hiding instead of facing up to this situation. Trouble was, the whole situation was driving him  _ to _ distraction. Clara Oswald was in his head, and she wouldn’t leave. She’d drifted in like a spring breeze, hugged him into submission, and now a storm raged in his hearts every time he looked at her. He didn’t  _ want _ her to leave,  _ ever _ . That was the problem.

Sometimes, in quiet moments, when he found himself lost in thoughts of her, or when they sat quietly together in the TARDIS library, a queasy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. Time running out. He might be a Time Lord, but he was not the master of time. Time always caught him in the end. When the sand in the hourglass was trickling away, only a fool would ignore it and let love slip through his fingers. He might be an idiot, but he was not a fool. It was high time he did something about the feelings gnawing a hole in his hearts.  

“Sit down, eat the food, say the words,” he muttered to himself. How hard can it be? He straightened himself up.  _ I’ve got this. Three little words. It’s not difficult. _ He swallowed hard, and set the coordinates for Clara’s flat. 

Dinner. The Orient Express, February 14 th .

She’d  _ know _ what that meant. Humans were dotty about that sort of thing, and Clara would certainly get the message. Loud and Clear. 

#

Clara fixed her ear rings in front of her three-mirrored dressing table. “Hey, you know it’s actually Valentine’s day, that’s a coincidence. Not that you’d have known that when we arranged this, of course. I hope you don’t mind, I wanted to give this dress another spin.” 

She brushed the beads on the short, tight dress down, while he stood awkwardly and made a half-hearted effort not to stare, at her legs, where a merry hem of beads danced across her thighs. Or the curve of her hip as she bent forward towards the mirror. He dragged his eyes away from the low V of her neck line, trying hard not to lose himself in her perfect, olive skin.

“Oh,” he said, weakly. “Valentines? Coincidence, yes.” He crunched his face up after he’d said it, and a tight knot clenched around his stomach. No, Doctor, you can do better than that. He tried again. “Um. You look . . . clean.”

She laughed. “Yes. I’ve had a  _ wash _ .” She shook her head almost imperceptibly. Then she added brightly, “You’ve scrubbed up.”

“I’ve had a wash, too,” he said, and immediately wanted to rip his own tongue out. How could the feelings be so clear, and yet when he spoke, this sort of rubbish came out? It was as if some evil puppet-master had editorial control over his words.

Clara smiled at him, that fond, indulgent smile he imagined she reserved for the times he’d been particularly dense. She linked her arm through his and they walked across her small flat to the TARDIS. 

“Come, on  _ starman _ . Show me something amazing.” 

He groaned silently. They were off to a fantastic start.  

#

The Orient Express had zipped along the space-ways for more than a hundred years before it met its inglorious end. The Doctor laid in coordinates for a time when he felt sure he wouldn’t meet anyone who he’d already met in the future, and then parked the TARDIS in the same spot he’d chosen the first time.

Clara walked beside him. She wore her hair longer than when they came before. Instead of the neat bob, it bounced around her shoulders and cascaded down the bare V on her back.  The expression she wore this time was different too. The trace of sadness was gone, and when she glanced across at him, something he couldn’t quite place sparkled in her eyes. It sent a thrill coursing through him. 

As they entered the dining car, an elegant singer, recreating the sound of Earth’s jazz halls of the 1920’s, twisted the pearls around her neck as she sang into a period microphone. A black-suited waiter showed them to their table. 

Clara looked around the carriage with a kind of wide-eyed wonder. Then she met his eyes and smiled. “I got so cross with you last time we were here.”

The Doctor nodded. “I was an ass.” 

“No, no you weren’t.” She seemed to consider for a moment. “Well, you were a  _ bit _ of an ass. You could have told me you thought something was up from the start. But that aside, you did what you had to do. What you always do. Save who you can.”

When Clara had blacked out, just before the train exploded, for a heart-stopping moment it became very clear to him what he’d done; selfishly put her in the line of fire to satisfy his own curiosity. And he’d hated himself for it. If she’d left him, he’d only have had himself to blame.

“You forgave me,” he said. He’d never quite understood how she’d decided, in the course of a telephone conversation, she could keep travelling with him  _ and _ be in a relationship with Danny Pink. He didn’t question it, though. He’d even let himself dream that when she said, ‘I love you’ into the telephone she’d been saying it, at least in part, to him as well as to Danny. Dare he ask her now what she’d meant?

“Of course I forgave you,” she went on. “That’s what you do when you care about someone.” She averted her eyes. “God knows you forgave me for much worse.” She picked up her champagne glass and gently swirled the golden liquid, holding the stem between her fingers. Then she raised her eyes. “I’ve often wondered what you meant when you said what you said.” 

Now the Doctor looked away. Beyond the window star fields raced past, creating a blur of movement in the dark expanse of space. How could he explain it, even now? That day he’d translated the unfathomable feelings raging in his chest into a question. 

_ Do you think I care for you so little betraying me would make a difference _ ? 

He meant he cared for her so deeply he’d forgive her anything.  

“Clara, you are always, and completely, forgiven,” he said. “I hope I can earn the same from you, after all the mistakes I’ve made.”

She reached for his hand, and took it in hers, a soft smile playing on her lips. “Oh, Doctor, I think we  _ do  _ deserve one another.” 

Heat rushed through him, flushing his face, but moments like this also froze his brain. He knew there was some follow up here that would be appropriate. Some particular combination of words and actions that would unlock the conundrum that tangled his hearts. But for the life of him he couldn’t tell what it was. 

It was Clara who broke the silence in the end. “It’s like you said, sometimes the only choices you have are bad ones, but you still have to choose. That’s the point. You don’t  _ have  _ to keep on making those choices; you could go find a quiet corner somewhere and never have to make a choice like that again. You keep putting yourself in harm’s way because you’re a good man.”

“I’m not a hero Clara.” 

“You’re just an idiot, passing through, helping out, I know you say that. But you are a hero. You are to me, anyway,” she said, releasing his hand so she could raise her glass.

That was the thing. Did he want to be her hero? Weren’t heroes untouchable? Unreachable, with magical qualities that set them apart from everyone else? Maybe he was tired of being her hero. Perhaps he just wanted to  _ be _ . 

#

He walked to the bar to get their drinks refilled. As he approached the counter, the bartender, a striking black woman of indeterminate age, greeted him.

“Doctor,” she said with a gentle, warm smile. As if she had been expecting him. 

“Guinan?” he said. He couldn’t hide his surprise. The first—and only—time they’d met, he wore another face with considerably thinner eyebrows. 

He blinked as a memory of metal terror and stolen flesh flashed through his mind. It had been a dark day—Cybermen and the Borg were each formidable enemies on their own. Working together they were almost unstoppable. But, the crew of the TARDIS and Enterprise were pretty unstoppable too. 

He smiled at Guinan. “Are you taking a break from Ten Forward?”

Guinan put her head to one side, and stared at him for a moment. “You know what they say, all good things must come to an end.” She poured champagne into two glasses. “My days on the Enterprise are long behind me. But one of the many things I’ve learned in this long life of mine, is not to let fear of how things might end stop me living well today.”

“Ah. One of the mysteries I’ve yet to solve,” he said.

“Is it? One might say it’s the only mystery worth solving.”

He squinted at Guinan for a moment, and then nodded. He let his breath out slowly. “I don’t think I know how to untangle it.”

“When my people were scattered by the Borg, for a while I thought it was better to be alone than to get close to those who would be gone in the blink of an eye.”

“They blow away like smoke,” the Doctor agreed. “Time stalks us all.”

Guinan held up a hand. “A very wise friend once told me that time is a companion, to remind us to cherish every moment, because they’ll never come again.”  

“A wise man indeed.” The Doctor inclined his head. He met Jean-Luc Picard only once, but he recognised his words. “Is the Captain well?”

“He lived well. He touched the lives of a great many people, and left the galaxy a better place than he found it.” Guinan smiled. “But you, Doctor, are skirting on the edges.”

“I am?”

“You’re living life at breakneck speed because you think that if you stop, time will catch you up and tear you apart.”

“Perhaps it  _ will _ .”

“If you stop and listen, you’ll find your answer. Silence the world around you. Listen to your hearts, for they hold endless wisdom. Maybe your head doesn’t fully understand, but your hearts  _ do _ . Stay with the feeling, and listen, really listen, to what it is your hearts are trying to tell you.”

The Doctor stared at Guinan for a good minute, trying to understand what it was she had told him. 

She smiled, a gentle, warm, knowing smile. After a moment she turned to a young man standing next to the Doctor. “What can I get you?”

The young man, crammed into a grey suit, shifted from foot to foot. “Champaign,” he said. He stuck in hand in his pocket. 

“Dutch courage, Frank?” Guinan said.

The young man nodded energetically. “Something like that.”

The Doctor took the drinks back to Clara, who was staring out at the star field, lost in thought. “The views really are amazing,” she said. “I just saw a great pink cloud, it went on for ages.”

“Hydrogen in a stellar nursery. The element—”

“Oh Doctor, don’t spoil it by explaining it. It was just beautiful.”

“We shouldn’t try to understand beautiful things?”

“Sometimes I think we should just let ourselves get carried away with amazing things.”

“Perhaps you’re right.” The Doctor saw the young man Guinan had called Frank return to his seat. He was sweating and fidgeting even more now, and he kept putting his hand in his pocket. The woman at the table laughed at something he said. The Doctor could see Frank’s hands shaking.

“Did you hear a word I just said?” Clara asked.

“Sorry. I think that fellow over there is up to something. He’s been acting suspiciously—”

“Suspicious? I’d say it was nerves.” Clara laughed.

The Doctor watched Frank glance around, perhaps locating his accomplices, and then he stood up. He was so young. The Doctor hated to see young people throw their lives away in a misguided gesture or get rich quick scheme. Terrorism or robbery?

“Yes, exactly. What’s he nervous about? He’s got something in his pocket—”

“I think it’s pretty obvious—” Clara said.

“ _ Obviously _ , he’s got a weapon!” the Doctor hissed, and leaped to his feet and bounded to Frank’s side. He grabbed the young man’s arm. “Whatever you have planned, I suggest you think very carefully about your next move. Don’t do something you’ll regret—”

“Doctor!” Clara snapped, grabbing his arm. 

He looked down at her hand on his sleeve with surprise. “Clara, I’ve got—”

“You’ve got to shut up!” she exclaimed. She turned to the couple, who were both looking at them, open-mouthed. “I’m so sorry about my friend. He’s been working too hard. Can’t switch off.”

“But—” The Doctor exclaimed.

Clara glared at him, and virtually dragged him back to his seat. “Please, carry on. Don’t mind us,” she said to the couple over her shoulder. 

The Doctor sat in his seat and crossed his arms. “I hope—”

“Hush! Watch.” 

The Doctor watched Frank drop to one knee.  _ That _ was unexpected. Then he took a box from his pocket, and flicked it open. A small diamond ring glinted inside. The Doctor groaned, and put his head in his hands.

“I just tried to save Frank from proposing, didn’t I?” 

“It might have been better to hold your peace.” Clara stood up, and put a hand on his shoulder. “Doctor, you are a chump,” she said, squeezing his shoulder. Then she whispered, “But you’re my chump,” and pecked him quickly on the cheek. “I’m going to ask the bar to send them a bottle of Champagne, and our apologies.”

The Doctor put his fingers to his face where Clara had just kissed him, and watched her walk towards the bar. He tried to decode exactly what just passed between them. Then he ran his hand through his hair. Frank’s beaming fiancée slipped the ring on her finger. The Doctor sighed, very deeply. He was never going to survive this.


	2. Feelings

 

Clara approached the bar at the back of the dining carriage. The bartender had a bottle of Champagne ready. “For Frank and Adeline?” she said.

“Um, yes. How did you know?”

“I’m Guinan,” the bar keeper said, as if that was the answer to the question.

“Okay, I’m—” 

“Clara.” Guinan put her head to one side, and examined her, as if she was conducting some kind of investigation into her soul. After a moment, she said, “You’re almost as tangled up as he is. You both need to pause and listen.” 

Clara looked at the strange woman. She’d travelled with the Doctor long enough to know there were times when it was best to just accept the extraordinary people they met. And something about this woman made her feel she could trust her. 

Clara eased herself onto a barstool.“He’s impenetrable, sometimes.”

Guinan’s eyes seemed to sparkle. “Whereas you are an open book?”

Clara coughed. “Well I suppose I deserve that.”

“Sometimes you have to peel back the layers.” Guinan slowly dried a glass tumbler with a red cloth. Then she set the glass down. “Emotions, they’re funny things, aren’t they? Do you even know what an emotion is?”

“Of course I do. It’s a feeling.”

“And what’s a feeling?”

“Well, it’s how we feel. About . . . things.” Clara finished the sentence uncertainly. The semantics of that fell apart rather quickly, she realised. “Okay, I think we’re both slightly challenged in that department.”

Guinan laughed softly. “You never know what feelings you’re capable of until you make the space to let them grow.” Guinan took something from her pocket, and laid it on the bar. Then she pushed it toward Clara. It was a key. “We’ll pass through the heart of the Hydraxi cluster in about an hour. The view from room twelve will be spectacular.”

“But, he’s always showing me amazing things,” Clara said. 

“Yes he is.”

“So . . . you’re saying I should show  _ him _ ?”

Guinan just raised an eyebrow and tilted her head to one side.  

#

When Clara returned from the bar, she was smiling. They ate, discussed the best year to visit Prague, he promised to take her to see the fire mountains of Finaria six, and singularly failed to say a single word of importance at all. 

As they finished their desserts, she said, “Go on, then, you know all about my love-hate relationship with soufflé. What was your favourite food, as a kid?”

He scoffed. “That was two thousand years ago. I don’t even remember being a kid.”

“Don’t you? What, nothing at all?” Clara had a sudden image of a drafty barn, and a very small boy, alone, and afraid, in the dark.

“Fragments. Sometimes,” he said with distant eyes.

Her heart tightened in her chest and for a moment, she felt an overwhelming sense of love for that small boy, who became this lonely man. She wanted to tell him, suddenly, that it was her who told him all those years ago that fear could make him kind. Did he know?  

#

After dinner, they walked back to the TARDIS. Clara pondered what Guinan had said, and when they passed room 12, she paused.

“The view from this window will be spectacular, apparently,” she said, catching the Doctor’s arm to stop him dashing past.

“Will it? I could show you from the TARDIS. Take you right inside the formation and—”

“I know. You show me wonders. But, just this once, I want to show  _ you _ .”

He shrugged, as if this was an interesting idea he’d humour.  

She unlocked the door, and they stepped into the small cabin. The room was just like the one she’d almost slept in when they were here before; a small window onto the rushing star field, a squat table with a lamp and a vase of red roses, and bed with the gloss of satin sheets. A few steps across the floor and Clara fully pulled back the blinds, better to see the shimmering field of stars they were ploughing through. The scattered hydrogen clouds became denser and within them a strong flashing light sent a powerful beam towards them with the steady rhythm of a heartbeat.

“See, that’s a quasar,” she said, proud of her growing knowledge of astrophysics. She reached over to turn out the lamp, and the darkness of the room swallowed them for a moment. Then the quasar flashed around again, bathing the cabin in silver. She half expected him to tell her they’d have a much better view from the TARDIS, but he stood silently by her side. 

She slid her arm through his, and laid her head against his shoulder. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured.

“Yes, it is,” he said. 

She could hear his breath now, and she wondered for a moment if he shared her awe, or if the years of travel dulled his eyes to sights such as this. 

“Do you still feel it? The wonder of watching something like this, even after all these years?”

“Beautiful things still move me Clara, even if I can’t always find words to explain it.”

Silence filled the air around them, and the strobing light was almost mesmerising. She felt him adjust his position beside her. 

“The universe is full of wonders. Two thousand years and I’ve barely scratched the surface. The Time Lords thought if they captured, dissected and analysed each moment they could master time. Trapped by their own arrogance. Got so caught up maintaining their own importance, they forgot to live. That’s why I travel with humans. You—” 

He faltered, and Clara made herself wait patiently, instead of filling the silence with words.

“Sometimes—” He sighed in the darkness. “—sometimes it’s easier to show rather than tell.”

“What do you mean?” she whispered.

The quasar’s light flashed silver again, and lit up his blue-grey eyes. They seemed ancient, and timeless, but strangely vulnerable. 

“I can’t always find words.” He turned to face her. “But, I think I could show you.” 

He took her hand. Gently he grasped two of her fingers, and laid them against his own face, adjusting them carefully until they rested at his temple. 

Then he touched her face in the same way. “If you’ll permit me?” he said.

Clara nodded. “I . . . You’re not going to explode my tiny pudding-brain, are you?”

“If I exposed you to the whole of my intellect and memories, then perhaps. But don’t worry. Where we’re going, I think you’re more likely to explode mine.”

Clara’s heart began to beat faster. Something brushed against her mind. She tensed.

“Just relax. Let it happen,” he said. “I won’t hurt you. I promise. I’d never hurt you.”

“I know,” Clara said, and let her breath go. “I trust you.”

She saw herself through his eyes; her smile, and the way her hair fell against her neck. The delicate creases at the corner of her eyes that wrinkled when she smiled. She had no idea he noticed such things. But there was more. 

Beneath those images were  _ feelings _ . 

She got a powerful sense of caring; a deep need to keep her safe, keep her close. To fend off the loneliness that stalked him, sharp as a noontime shadow. That loneliness hit her with a physical jolt. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. How could anyone survive such aloneness?

_ You can’t, _ she heard him say, or think, and she realised she wasn’t just a passive observer. They were  _ joined _ . He was in her head, too. He could feel her loneliness as well as she felt his.

_ I’m sorry _ ,  _ I’m sorry I couldn’t bring Danny back for you. _

_I loved Danny. But, . . . I never loved him enough_ _to give you up._

_ You were . . . punishing yourself, Clara, when you sent me away. _

_ So were you. We’re a pair of fools. Let’s not do that again, eh? _

He wanted her—needed her—to understand how important she was to him. He took a deep breath, and opened his hearts just a little more.

_ You are the building blocks of my universe. The stars, the galaxies, every ray of light, everything that’s good, it all starts with you and ends with you. I’m afraid one day someone will offer you all the things I never can—real things, like safety, a home, family, one day after another in the right order. Then you’ll slip through my fingers like stardust. _

_ Don’t think that! Maybe I don’t want those things. My life with you is the only thing that’s real. _

He felt the force of her affection roll over him in endless waves. As if she loved him, almost.

_ Of course I love you, you daft old man. How could I not?  _

He felt his chest tighten. It was one thing to care for someone, to love someone as a friend, or brother or mentor. Quite another to feel the way he felt. Confusion swamped him. 

_ Clara. I . . . I’m . . . I don’t always know how to tell you. I can think it a thousand times, but when I try to say it— _

_ Don’t worry. I know a thing or two about loving you, Doctor. Because I’ve been doing it for a very long time. _

He felt her push in further, nudge against a deeper truth, something he’d not anticipated, and was not ready for. He pulled back. A reflex.  _ That wasn’t supposed to— _

_ Doctor, you started this. We’ve come this far. Please don’t run now.  _ Clara’s consciousness buffeted against his defences until the last of his reserves melted away. He’d invited her inside his head. If he was going to let her see him, then he had to let her see all of him.  

Clara felt it all, radiating from him in waves. The joy, the sheer joy he felt being with someone so like himself in so many ways. The deep affection, the love. None of that surprised her, he realised. She knew he needed her friendship. She knew he respected her and wanted her with him. But she didn’t know everything. He made a half-hearted attempt at holding her  probing consciousness back.

Sometimes, he knew, he had to let go to win. He’d have to take a chance on getting his hearts broken or stay trapped in a cage of his own making. How brave could he be? 

He loosened his grip just a fraction, and felt her presence deep in his hearts. There would be no going back now. She would see the truth.

_ Desire. _

_ Heart, mind, soul; flesh, blood, bone. Always, every way. Every atom of me wants every atom of you, until I can’t breathe for the wanting of you. _

The strength of his passion rocked her. The revelation he wanted her was intoxicating. She hadn’t known. But she could never unknow this; there could be no going back now.

_ You’ve seen it all now, Clara. Are you shocked? _

Clara felt a wave of fear and vulnerability emanate from the Doctor. Suddenly he seemed like that lost little boy, alone and afraid in the dark. 

She opened herself to him without hesitation, like a rose turning to the light and bursting into full bloom.

_ I want you, too. I want to run with you forever. I want you to hold my hand while we chase through the stars. But I want you to hold my hand on quiet evenings in the library too.  _

He didn’t see it. Confusion still held him in its claws. 

_ I want you in every way a woman can want a man.  _

Then she gently took her hand away from his face, and opened her eyes. There were some feelings, she decided, that were better to experience with your body fully engaged.

Visceral reactions took hold of her. She gasped aloud at the onslaught; heart racing, body tingling, flooded with her own desire. Her tongue tangled and her lips locked. There were no words that could ever capture this feeling. It was too big to be pinned down by mere language. She saw confusion in his eyes.

“I can show you how I feel,” she said. She and moved her lips towards his. “If you’ll permit me?” she murmured, and hesitated, her lips a breath away from his.

Something clicked in his eyes. They widened for a moment. “In every way?” His hands were on her hips now, and she could feel his breath on her face. “If I kiss you, I won’t want to stop,” he warned, and pulled her closer. “I’ll want it all. Not just Wednesdays.” 

“Didn’t you get the memo? I don’t want you to stop,” she said. Then she pressed her lips to his, and let the sensations wash over her. 

_ Want, need, desire.  _ His, hers, a cocktail of chemicals firing off and waking her body. His hands slipped onto the bare V on her back. The sensation of his palms on her skin made her tremble.   

The silver light flashed again through the room. She turned, until her back was in front of him. She shivered as he swept her hair aside and kissed her bare skin at the base of her neck. He fumbled for a moment, and then she heard the zip open. The beady dress fell to the floor around her. 

She turned to face him. “You already have my heart; but so you know, it’s yours now. I won’t give it to anyone else, ever.”

#

They tumbled together onto the satin sheets; no more layers between them now, just flesh on flesh. He crushed her lips, slowly discovering her, exploring this new reality between them. He held her until she became the whole universe. Nothing mattered, except the smell of her filling his lungs, and the heady sensation of closeness blotting out the world. She wrapped herself around him and called his name with breathless gasps.

She was everything; the most perfect state of being. She completed him, she was the thread that wove the story of his life into a coherent whole. The final puzzle, the only mystery worth solving. The shining moment that turned the world upside down. Nothing would ever be the same again.

“I love you,” he said. Whatever took him so long? “I love you,” he said it again, with joy and hope bursting in his hearts. Three little words; turns out they’re easy to say, now he finally had her in his arms. “I love you,” he whispered, and there was a freedom in it, finally pouring out what he’d held back for so long.  

Later, as they lay together in the silver light of the quasar he listened to the sound of her breathing as she slipped towards sleep. He’d shown her everything. She’d seen the best and the worst of him, and she wanted him still. 

She was already asleep. He kissed her forehead, and she stirred. “Best Valentine’s Day ever,” she whispered. 

Warmth spread through him, glowing in his hearts as he held her close. “I love you. Always, and forever.” He’d tell her every day, and cherish every moment.

Because those three words, he decided, were not so hard to say after all.

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you who are interested, the Eleventh Doctor, Rory and Amy met the crew of the Enterprise D, including Guinan, in the brilliant comic book "Assimilation Squared." Honestly, I thought all my Christmases had come at once when I read that.
> 
> If you like my story, leave me kudos.  
> If you want to say hello, or tell me how I've done, leave a comment.  
> If you want to sweeten my Valentine beyond measure, do both!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr for Doctor Who @infiniteregress17  
> or my writing blog @writers-stuff17


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